2:50 PM,
May 8, 2013

As a young magazine intern, I lived in a women's residence hall on Gramercy Park, the only private park in Manhattan.

Written by

Karen Parr-Moody
Leaf-Chronicle

The end of 1993 was rough on Judy Parr. She had lived in Alabama her entire life and here she stood, late one night, on the platform of an Atlanta train station.

The train began rolling forward slowly as she waved a teary goodbye to her 22-year-old daughter, who peered out a window and waved back. Then the train picked up speed and she ran alongside it until their gazes parted.

I was that daughter, leaving, like some character in a 1950s novel, for New York City. I had a navy Samsonite bag in the seat next to me, my only other possession the belief that I was on the cusp of something wonderful. ...